


The Sile[N]t W[I]sh of a Lon[E]ly Avenge[R]

by SansPeridot



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard, Fate/Grand Order, NieR: Automata (Video Game), Nier Gestalt | Nier
Genre: Alternate Universe, And why Gorgon is secretly a pining mess of bottled up fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Love Confessions, Multi, Mystery Character(s), Other, Parallel Universes, Post-Apocalypse, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Spoilers, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Time Travel, Trust Issues, Tsunderes, Which is why it's a male Ritsuka in his early twenties, this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:58:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansPeridot/pseuds/SansPeridot
Summary: It all begins and ends with the same thing.From the moment Ritsuka Fujimaru is notified of yet another threat to Humanity, all the way up to what very well might be the last time he'll ever see the woman he loves again, the signal of his journey which has no easy way out or an honest happy-ending...While dreaming of someone he refuses to forget, it happens.[HE. HEARS. A . SOUND.]





	1. A Dream [WITH]out Their Song

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!!!
> 
> THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR:
> 
> -FATE: GRAND ORDER (UP TO, AND INCLUDING, THE SHINJUKU PSUEDO-SINGULARITY)
> 
> -NIER: AUTOMATA
> 
> -NIER: GESTALT
> 
> -DRAKENGARD
> 
>  
> 
> YOU HAVE NOW BEEN WARNED.

Roughly 3 weeks after resolving the first Pseudo-Singularity in Shinjuku, Ritsuka Fujimaru dreams of a lost friend.

 

_Blue eyes open to the sight of an equally blue sky overhead. Pristine clouds mark up the azure expanse, lazy smears of innocent chalk on an otherwise clean canvas. Sunshine embraces his whole body without malice and leaves his skin with a tingling warmth that makes him want to just close his eyes and enjoy it. Something he'd be far more likely to do if he wasn't so sure that something about waking up here feels... **odd**._

 

_So, instead of drifting back off into comfortable oblivion, Ritsuka props himself up on his elbows and takes in the rest of the surrounding scenery. Emerald grass stretches out in every direction for as far as he can tell. The field of green is dotted with pale, strawberry red flowers he can’t remember the name of, b_ _ut is somehow positive he's heard of before._

_It’s then that Ritsuka realizes there’s no sound. Not even the faintest whispering of the wind as it makes the grass and flowers dance to an unknown tempo. Everything is wrapped up tight in a soft blanket of total, complete silence. It’s not scary or even unnatural though. It feels almost… gentle. Like this is the way it’s **supposed** to be. _

 

_There's nothing to be scared of, not when all is as it should be, he reasons._

_Then something changes._

_Suddenly, there’s someone else sprawled out next to him, just observing the calm sky and enjoying the lazy embrace of the welcoming sunlight. The new person’s presence doesn’t startle Ritsuka in the least. Just like the lack of all sound, it’s immediately apparent that this new arrival is meant to be here. In fact, Ritsuka feels as though they’re the entire reason he's even here to begin with._

_Ritsuka turns his head to look over at his cloud-gazing companion. His eyes soon widen in shocked disbelief._

 

_Strawberry hair done up in a haphazard ponytail and eyes like frosted green sea-glass greet him. There’s a calm smile on the other person’s lips that reaches all the way to their eyes. Nothing about them has changed in the slightest, even after all this time._

_It’s then that Ritsuka desperately wishes he could speak, that he could make a noise of some kind. Of any kind. There’s simply too much he wants to say, too many things he wants to share and far too few ways to do it. How can he possibly convey everything without words? How can all of these feelings, these painful, twisted and horribly precious emotions be given a voice when he himself currently lacks one?_

_The other person looks almost amused at the serious expression Ritsuka makes while thinking. The corners of their eyes crinkle and they rub the back of their head with a gloved hand. Ritsuka is convinced that they’d be laughing out of secondhand embarrassment right now if they could. Instead, they take the hand away from their head and place it over their chest. The nametag on their white coat lightly shakes upon impact, while simultaneously also dislodging a few stray cake crumbs that always found a way to hang on after snacking. They then hold out their other hand with the palm face-up._

_Their lips move, but Ritsuka can’t make out the words._

_He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the words are important. Whatever it is that his friend, his dear companion, wants him to know can only be as such._

 

_So, even though Ritsuka wants nothing more than to speak and share all that he’s kept bottled up inside him ever since that day, he lets his mouth fall shut. With a deliberate slowness that can only be found inside of a dream **(Because that’s what this is, it’s what it has to be. There’s just no other way this could be happening.)** Ritsuka reaches out with his own hand and simply does his best to watch and to listen._

_His friend’s mouth moves once more as the distance between their outstretched limbs grows ever smaller. Ritsuka strains to make out the words with everything he has. Each shape his friend’s mouth makes sears itself into his subconscious. He can't explain why, but he suddenly knows this will be the last chance he has to understand. A thought that genuinely terrifies him because that means the dream will end soon and there's no telling if he'll ever have it again._

**_[Trust]_ **

**_[The]_ **

**_[Red]_ **

**_[Dragon]_ **

_Without having any clue as to what those words mean, Ritsuka nods to show he’s at least understood them. He can’t bear the thought of his friend thinking that their message wasn’t properly received._

_When his friend sees the nod, their face practically radiates happy relief. Which is perfect because it’s not a heartbeat later that their hands finally touch and Ritsuka temporarily loses all connection with his four available senses._

 

_The resulting contact causes a sensation almost too varied and... **heavy** to fully describe. It's less like making physical contact and more like two souls brushing up against one another, their entire contents spilling out from intentional cracks in their design. Everything Ritsuka was thinking, feeling, hoping, fearing and even wishing is laid bare in that instant. It all flows along the length of his arm and into the careful, gloved palm lightly squeezing his own._

_Ritsuka knows because the reverse is also true._

_A veritable tsunami of thoughts and feelings wash over him all at once. Regret. Joy. Sorrow. Relief. Hope. Remorse. Pride. Each and every single one of these things would be almost unbearable on their own, but together… Ritsuka can only let his tears freely flow down his cheeks as he realizes just how much he’s been hurting. His heart aches and sings in equal measure at the overwhelming catharsis of being finally able to relieve this burden, this weight from his shoulders._

_However, it’s terribly short-lived._

_Because, without warning-_

**_[HE. HEARS. A. SOUND.]_ **

_A keening toll of bells and chimes that does not belong. An eldritch song without any trace of humanity and devoid of all reason. Echoing over and over and over and over. It will never stop, never cease, never lessen and never end._

 

_They come from everywhere and nowhere at once. They are in the sky, the sun, the grass, the flowers. They are inside of him. They are inside of his friend. It's been Watching them this whole time, waiting for its chance to break out and forcefully worm inside._

_And the sound is hungry._

_It swallows the light and greedily chews up the warm colors of the dream. Darkness erupts from awful cracks in the sky and pours down onto the now gray earth below. Ritsuka knows this is wrong. This sound is something alien. It’s a foreign entity that has never been given the right to invade his mind, his dreams or his world._

_But here it is all the same._

_Ritsuka’s eyes tear themselves away from the ruined expanse of the broken sky above and return to his friend's face._

_Except, now there’s something **else** sitting in their place, but still tightly gripping Ritsuka’s hand._

_AnD I t’s eYe S aR e **h unG rY**_

 

Roughly 3 weeks after resolving the first Pseudo-Singularity in Shinjuku, Ritsuka Fujimaru wakes to the sound of Chaldea's Singularity alarm covered in a cold sweat, dimly aware that something precious has been lost forever.


	2. UnKN0wN eRR0r

The blaring tone of the Singularity alarm doesn’t inspire much fear or worry in Chaldea’s Servants anymore.

 

After all, why should it? It’s become such a common occurrence at this point that it’s more like a routine part of the week instead of something worth stressing over. The only noteworthy part of such an event, with Goetia defeated and the Incineration of Humanity stopped, is a simple question currently running through nearly all of the summoned Servant’s heads:

 

_“Who will Ritsuka take with him?”_

 

The established rhythm for Singularities in general hasn’t deviated much since Okeanos and it’s stayed consistent even after the defeat of Beast I.

 

First, the alarm sounds off, prompting Ritsuka, Mash and any Command Room technicians not already present to hurry there for a briefing from Da Vinci. Next, Ritsuka is given a relatively small amount of time to decide what kind of team he wants to bring along for the initial Rayshift. Depending, of course, on whatever information Da Vinci is able to provide him with before doing so.

 

Sometimes that information only amounts to simple things like the general era he’ll be transported to or the topography of the predicted arrival point, but that can usually be plenty for the start of a Singularity. With the wealth of experience Ritsuka now carries on his shoulders, drafting up teams of Servants to handle unknown variables has become a simple task.

 

However, based on prior Singularities, humanity’s savior is typically expected to request 3 Servants minimum, with no more than 5 at the most. This is primarily due to being physically limited on the number of Servants he can effectively support out in the field, even with Chaldea’s technology taking a large part of the burden off his own Magical Circuits altogether.

 

So, when the Singularity alarm finally sounds off, everyone stops whatever they were previously doing and waits for the inevitable follow-up announcement. There have been cases of Servants missing the call before, for one reason or another, and being promptly substituted due to time constraints. An understandable consequence, but one that none of the current Servant pool wants to experience. (One such instance involving a heated dispute between both of the Lancer versions of Cu Chulainn over which one was actually being called on, resulting in both of them being committed to mandatory bedrest by Nightingale after she’d **violently** broken up their fight.)

 

For all that the Mage’s Association and other related entities view Ritsuka Fujimaru as a subpar Magus and a generally talentless Master, every single one of his Servants treasure the moments they’re able to spend with him.

 

To them, Ritsuka is someone worth their time, someone worth fighting for and someone worthy of commanding their strength. More than a handful of them even look at him with more than platonic admiration, much to their peers’ dismay. Ritsuka has yet to accept any of the many clumsy or outright over the top attempts to woo him though. (Usually with the excuse that it ‘wouldn’t be fair for one Servant to hog him all to themselves like that’.)

 

…And it’s those Servants in particular that hold their collective breath in anticipation of the chance to assist their beloved Master in resolving yet another threat to humanity, however minor it might wind up being.

 

Fortunately, they don’t have to wait for very long because the intercom blares to life not 20 minutes after the alarm grows silent.

 

“ **THE FOLLOWING SERVANTS ARE BEING REQUESTED TO IMMEDIATELY REPORT TO THE COMMAND ROOM: [ASSASSIN]: “KING HASSAN”, [ARCHER]: JAMES MORIARTY, AND [AVENGER]: GORGON. I REPEAT, THE FOLLOWING SERVANTS ARE BEING REQUESTED TO IMMEDIATELY REPORT TO THE COMMAND ROOM…** ”

 

The Servants whose names weren’t called this go around either let out sighs of disappointment (Kiyohime, Serenity and a few other love-struck individuals) or frustrated growls at being left out of the fun (the battle maniacs and more than a handful of Berserkers). However, the initial rush of emotions passes rather quickly and the ones who’ll be sitting this particular Singularity out begin their usual form of coping:

 

They gossip amongst themselves as to why the requested Servants had been chosen instead of them.

 

 

[> \- - - - - - - - - - <]

 

 

“I’m telllin’ ya, they’re gearin’ up for some kinda huge-ass brawl. Why else would Master wanna take along so much firepower right out the gate?” Beowulf systematically cracks his knuckles as he talks, agitation practically pouring off his body in waves.

 

He’s sitting in the cafeteria along with two other fellow members of his Class, for no reason other than he’d felt like eating some steak on a whim and they just so happened to be there for him to complain to once the announcement detailing the requested Servants started going out.

 

“-And no Casters or even any healers at all? Master only does that when he thinks brute force’ll be the best approach and he isn’t askin’ for **ME**? It’s pissin’ me off all over again just thinkin’ about it!”

 

“Nghuu…” Frankenstein simply grunts in response, her attention firmly fixed on her usual plate of hex-bolts and screws still sitting in front of her.

 

(It had started off as something of a silly rumor in the beginning; whether the bridal Berserker seriously ate metal instead of standard food stuffs. However, after nearly 6 months passed by without anyone seeing her place anything into her mouth, but still noticing her plate of steel and iron was always empty every time she left the cafeteria, everyone in Chaldea long since gave up trying to figure out whether she actually ate them or not. It’s like they were there one second and then, after blinking or just turning away for a moment, they suddenly vanished into thin air.)

 

(…Some things may simply forever remain a mystery. Like why EMIYA keeps fulfilling Frankenstein’s daily “meal” orders without batting an eye.)

 

“No, seriously! This is crap. If he’s really expecting some sorta bloodbath, then the least he could do is invite me along! Plus, I’m getting’ real sick of bein’ cooped up in here with nothin’ excitin’ to do. Besides, what’s the difference between me and that snake woman anyways? All both of us know how to do is break shit.” The scarred Berserker snarls and spits out his words, growing even more irate by the second.

 

The veritable slab of barely cooked meat on Beowulf’s own plate swiftly becomes an outlet for his frustrations. The tanned Berserker stabs at it with an overly large carving knife (most likely stolen from the kitchen without EMIYA’s knowledge) and brutally separates it into jagged chunks that he then promptly shoves into his waiting mouth. The unnecessary amounts of force being utilized in the act leads to splashes of reddish juice jetting out and landing dangerously close to the table’s third occupant.

 

“…Must you so gracelessly gorge yourself in my presence? If I later find so much as a single stain on my attire, you’ll pay the price in triple with your own gluttonous blood.” The former king of Romania, unlike the others, has no food before him. Instead, Vlad the Third’s hands are busy with a ball of plush, crimson yarn; the color not too unlike that of freshly spilled blood.

 

The fabric in question is slowly being fashioned into the shape of a rose, the vampiric Berserker having taken a request for such an item earlier from Frankenstein herself. Why the girl needed, or even wanted, such a thing was beyond him, but she’d come with such an earnest expression on her face that Vlad had found the idea of refusing her to be rather distasteful.

 

…If only he’d chosen to return to his room before starting on it.

 

Beowulf’s hands cease their psychotic cutting and his eyes narrow, drifting up from his now thoroughly brutalized steak. He locks gazes with the pale man across from him. Beowulf then schools his face into a smug scowl, as if daring the other Berserker to make good on his earlier threat.

 

Vlad, to his credit, continues their staring contest without so much as missing a single stitch in his knitting. The two maintain eye contact, unflinchingly, for an uncomfortably long time before something finally disturbs them.

 

“Ugh! Nghuuu!” Frankenstein proudly waves her now empty plate beneath Vlad’s nose. Once again, it’s an utter unknown as to what she’d physically done with the metal bits on it. Vlad blinks in surprise, his annoyance with Beowulf temporarily forgotten as Frankenstein seemingly awaits some kind of response in return for her accomplishment.

 

“…You finished it all. Very… well done.” The tail end of Vlad’s praise sounds more like a question than a statement, but it results in a satisfied hum from its recipient nonetheless.

 

“Mmmmmm!”

 

Frankenstein then stands and turns to return her plate to the kitchen for washing, but stops after taking only one step. She then turns around and looks directly at Beowulf before clumsily forcing out a quiet set of semi-broken words.

 

“The difference… is… Master actually trusts… Gor…gon to do… more than… just ‘ _b…reak… shit_ ’.”

 

And, with that, the younger Servant rushes off to take care of her plate, leaving a now speechless Beowulf and silently mirthful Vlad in her wake.

 

It takes close to a full 10 seconds before the Swedish Berserker regains his voice, only for any attempt at a rebuttal to be cut off when Vlad starts openly laughing. He just can’t help it. Beowulf looks exactly like a betrayed fish when he leaves his mouth hanging open like that.

 

“Th-the hell you laughin’ at, huh?!!”

 

 

[> \- - - - - - - - - - <]

 

 

“ **THE FOLLOWING SERVANTS ARE BEING REQUESTED TO IMMEDIATELY REPORT TO THE COMMAND ROOM: [ASSASSIN]: “KING HASSAN”, [ARCHER]: JAMES MORIARTY, AND [AVENGER]: GORGON. I REPEAT, THE FOLLOWING SERVANTS ARE BEING REQUESTED TO IMMEDIATELY REPORT TO THE COMMAND ROOM…** ”

 

The lifeless blare of the automated announcement echoes all throughout Chaldea’s halls on a timed loop. 2 repetitions every 5 minutes and it’ll just keep on repeating said pattern until either all of the requested Servants show up or Ritsuka decides he can’t afford to wait any longer.

 

And so, with a desire to cease the outpouring of obnoxious noise from continuing any longer than absolutely necessary, Gorgon briskly makes her way to the Command Room. She’s still carrying her perpetually annoyed/disinterested expression, even as she strides down Chaldea’s currently empty hallways. Despite not having been engaged in any significant activity prior to the summons, she’s not exactly thrilled at the prospect of being forced to work together with an ancient bag of bones and that insufferable excuse of a dandy-man.

 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that it was Ritsuka asking for her help, then Gorgon would’ve had absolutely zero qualms with simply tearing apart anyone who attempted something remotely similar.

 

As it stands though, she finds herself begrudgingly accepting her Master’s choice in team composition. She’s fully aware that he doesn’t just randomly throw Servants together without reason. Everything he does is calculated to some extent, whether it’s based on information provided by Da Vinci or his own battle honed instincts.

 

…It’s still going to be a _severe_ test of her patience regardless.

 

Finally entering the Command Room blesses the entirety of Chaldea with blissful silence as Gorgon’s arrival puts a stop to the looping announcement. She casts her faded, violet eyes over the scene before her, taking note of how all of the gathered Chaldea technicians make it a point to avoid her gaze at all costs. Despite knowing that she’s an ally, all of them remain justifiably scared of the prospect of her Mystic Eyes turning them to stone on a whim.

 

…Pathetic, the lot of them.

 

Meanwhile, near the center of the room, Ritsuka seems to be briefing both Hassan and Moriarty on whatever information Da Vinci had been able to provide, freeing up the Caster in question to begin setting up for the impending Rayshift with Mash’s assistance.

 

The First Hassan gives Gorgon a barely perceptible tilt of his head in greeting, but Ritsuka has his back turned to her and apparently hasn’t noticed her arrival quite yet. Both Moriarty and Hassan make no indication that the third member of their party is almost on top of their Master, even as Gorgon stalks up directly behind him, catching the tail end of his explanation in the process.

 

“…and there’s apparently a high chance that we’ll lose communication with Chaldea as soon as we arrive, so that’s why-“

 

Gorgon takes it upon herself to remind her foolish Master to be more aware of his surroundings by lashing out with several strands of her snake-like hair and quickly wrapping him up. She doesn’t squeeze with the force required to injure him, but still holds her captive firmly enough to feel the gentle pulse of his heartbeat as it continues pushing blood out to every inch of his body. She allows herself a smug grin in anticipation of the terrified rise in his pulse and some kind of shocked reaction at the rough interruption.

 

“Wha-?! Oh, Gorgon! Sorry, I totally didn’t hear you come in!” Ritsuka’s voice is steady, smooth and far too pleased for Gorgon’s taste. And adding insult to injury, his heartrate actually has the _audacity_ to slow down a little; as if the sensation of Gorgon’s hair ensnaring him is somehow _relaxing_ instead of terrifying and genuinely life threatening!

 

“ **Tch**. If I were an enemy, you’d be dead right now.” Gorgon scolds her Master with an annoyed huff, still refusing to loosen her grip on him.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not then! Although, if you keep holding me like this I might end up falling asleep. Your hair’s surprisingly soft and warm and I didn’t exactly get a lot of sleep tonight…” Even dangling nearly a full foot in the air, Ritsuka still manages to chuckle and flash a smile Gorgon’s way. He’s acting less like he’s being held by an Avenger with a grudge against humanity as a whole and more like he’s talking to a lover that’s surprised him with a hug-

 

“ **!!!** ”

 

Gorgon allows her captive to drop back down onto his feet with a silent noise of shock, but not before noticing the mischievous smirk on Moriarty’s face as he casually observes the whole exchange. The middle-aged Archer’s eyes are alight with a knowing glint that the massive Avenger most certainly does not appreciate.

 

And she wastes no time in making sure the other Servant knows it.

 

“…You would do well to keep your eyes to yourself, Archer. Unless you’d rather I pluck them out of their insolent sockets, one by one.”

 

“Ahahaha! I’d much rather you didn’t! Otherwise, how else would I get to see such an infamous monster blush like a pure-hearted schoolgirl?”

 

… _What._

 

“...If you’ve got a death wish then you won’t need to waste a Grail to make it happen because I’ll be more than happy to grant it myself.” Gorgon reflexively hisses and bares her fangs at the mere notion of doing anything even remotely close to blushing like **ANY** sort of schoolgirl.

 

What sort of braindead fool would dare imply that she, the horrible and monstrous Gorgon, could possibly harbor any emotion beyond simple tolerance towards something as disgusting as a filthy human? What utter and baseless absurdity!

 

However, while she continues glaring daggers at Moriarty, Gorgon can’t deny that her face might feel just a little, tiny bit warmer than it did a minute ago. Not that it has anything to do with her prior interaction with Ritsuka though. No, it must simply be her anger at the insufferable fool of an Archer that’s responsible for it. That’s all. Clearly.

 

“Alright, we’re all set for the Rayshift! Are you and your team ready, Ritsuka?” Da Vinci’s chipper voice inadvertently saves Moriarty from being ground into a fine, red paste by the still fuming Gorgon.

 

Ritsuka, mere moments away from politely asking Hassan to intervene, lets out a relieved sigh and shoots Da Vinci a thumbs up. “Yeah, we’re more or less good to go. I just have to give Gorgon a rundown on the-“

 

“There’s no need, Master.” Gorgon cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “All you have to do is tell me who to crush and what to devour once we reach our destination. Nothing more.”

 

For a brief instant, Ritsuka looks almost disappointed by Gorgon’s cold response, but he bounces back so quickly that hardly anyone notices. “If you’re sure… Alright, Da Vinci, we’re ready to rock and roll!”

 

In short order Ritsuka is climbing into his designated Coffin while Mash offers heartfelt words of encouragement before her beloved senpai embarks on yet another mission to safeguard humanity. The pair talk for what feels like an hour, with Gorgon impatiently waiting for the Rayshift to commence so they can get this over with. It’s not as though watching Mash smile and flush red at Ritsuka’s genuine and overall pleasant personality makes Gorgon want to simultaneously vomit **and** rip someone’s throat out or anything.

 

...Preferably someone with lavender hair and glasses.

 

For no particular reason, of course.

 

Eventually though, Mash hurries back to her assigned workstation and an automated voice announces the Rayshift’s initial startup procedures.

 

“ **STARTING UNSUMMON PROGRAM**.”

 

The horde of gathered Chaldea technicians furiously type out the required transfer information at a breakneck pace. They’re all old hats when it comes to Singularities now, having assisted Ritsuka through every single one of them ever since the beginning of the Grand Order.

 

“ **COMMENCING SPIRITRON CONVERSION**.”

 

Da Vinci and Mash both pour over all of the data being transmitted from Ristuka’s Coffin. Neither of them are willing to let so much as the smallest speck of their friend’s bio-signs or proof of existence deviate from acceptable values.

 

“ **RAYSHIFT BEGINS IN 3… 2… 1…** ”

 

The air in the room is calm, everyone naturally nervous, but feeling more than prepared for whatever might come. There’s not much that any of them haven’t seen or gone through at this point, but they refuse to let complacency take root and sully their impressive track record.

 

“ **ALL SYSTEMS ARE GO**.”

 

Gorgon scoffs next to Hassan and Moriarty. She’s seen this same scene so many times by now that it feels comical. More a formality than anything of importance. Any moment now Ritsuka will be sent off and she’ll feel the steady tug of his mana on her Spirit Origin, effectively guiding her towards wherever he winds up.

 

 

“ **ANALYZE** **[UnKN0wN eRR0r]**.”

 

Chaos suddenly erupts among the Command Room staff. Monitors fizzle and spark as ominous static spreads out over them like some kind of noxious plague. The lights flicker and some even shatter altogether in the face of some unknown force.

 

Technicians yell out and begin panicking when they find themselves totally helpless to stop the Rayshift, despite Da Vinci slamming a gloved hand onto the emergency shutdown switch beneath her Commander’s console.

 

“ **[THeRE iS a sOUnd]**.”

 

The last thing Gorgon hears is Mash tearfully screaming out Ritsuka’s name before everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rose is for Mordred.


End file.
